


We Proudly Serve The System, Alright

by dontburnout



Series: The 80s Movie Special [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Breakfast Club AU, Grimmy is the janitor, Harry is Claire, Here we go, I also don't know how to tag so sue me, I don't actually know why I chose him as the janitor, Liam is Andrew, Louis is Bender, M/M, Niall is Brian, Simon is in this and he's a dick, They make out in this so there's that, This is the Breakfast Club AU nobody really asked for, Zayn is Allison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7014757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontburnout/pseuds/dontburnout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>School systems don't make a lick of sense and that isn't something that bypasses Louis Tomlinson's mind as he makes the dreadful trek up Shermer High's steps. He's known plenty about being here, especially on Saturdays, when he could be somewhere else. He is, in a few choice words, the pure essence of rebellion. </p><p>Or</p><p>The OT5 Breakfast Club AU where Louis is John Bender and he's our choice bad boy from a questionable living arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Proudly Serve The System, Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lacypantieswithbows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacypantieswithbows/gifts).



> Okay, so here is my baby. I've been working on this for months. (And by months, I mean the night of my birthday. I wanted to give myself a present so to speak. And that present was making my lazy ass finish something I started.) Ana has been my beta on this journey but she may as well have been the co-author with the amount of help she's given me along the way. That's why I added her as one. I love you, Ana! Thank you for motivating me (with text messages saying my ass better be writing) every night and day and even dealing with my breakdowns. You're a life saver, really. The inspiration for this was obviously The Breakfast Club. That movie transcends time and I decided to make a fic that will hopefully do the same. I also really love Molly Ringwald and Anthony Michael Hall and they are such blessings for being in every single one of my favorite 80s movies. This is my first fic on AO3 and hopefully not my last, so feel free to constructively criticize this in the comments. 
> 
> Kudos is appreciated. 
> 
> I hope you, the reader, enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Much love. 
> 
> (I'll shut up now, so you can start reading.)

_**Saturday** _  
_**March 24th** _  
_**Shermer High School** _  
_**Shermer, Illinois** _

_**"...And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations. They're quite aware of what they're going through..."** _  
_**DAVID BOWIE** _

What are weekends for really?

They sure as hell aren't for spending them at school.

You try to stay away as much as physically possible and when you can't you try not to make it harder on yourself. So getting a Saturday detention is so not what you do.

Especially if you’re in high school. There are too many things to get done on weekends like procrastinating on that one project Mrs. Smith assigned for English class and sleeping all day or even going to parties. And when you’re a teenager you don’t tend to listen to authority. You stray away from the orders given by adults because they’re adults. They are surely out to get you. So naturally, an entire system was made where adults were assigned levels of authority and who was put under that authority? The rebellious teens who refuse to follow rules even when they know it’s the right thing to do. It’s just how life works and no one ever said it was fair. Frankly, whoever came up with the idea is fucking dense. At least that is what Louis thinks. And he’s spent many a night thinking about this too. School systems don't make a lick of sense and that isn't something that bypasses Louis Tomlinson's mind as he makes the dreadful trek up Shermer High's steps. He's known plenty about being here, especially on Saturdays when he could be somewhere else. He is, in a few choice words, the pure essence of rebellion. He is the kind of bloke you wouldn't let meet your family and his daily conversation is enough to make your nan's cheeks pink. He paints quite the picture standing a few inches shorter than any other person his age usually is; but that doesn't make him any less intimidating. Nope, his black Vans that have seen better days have managed to carry him to the very tip top of the food chain and when he gets bored enough he picks fights with people who don't tickle his fancy. He is rugged and handsome, with cheekbones sharp enough to cut steel and bluish-grey eyes that resemble the sea during a storm, always swimming with mischief. Said eyes are covered by a pair of Raybans and although the day is gloomy, he still wants to live up to his image. Surprisingly today he doesn't have his feathery hair flopping down on his forehead, it's pushed up in a quiff. Come on, he isn't a savage animal contrary to what the public says. He holds his skateboard (his prized possession, his baby) in one hand, paying no mind to how it's dirtying up his favorite blue jean jacket and maroon shirt. And his muscular thighs are concealed by a pair of his simple black skinnies.

He opens the door for himself and just as he's about to walk in a body brushes past him, frantic and hurried it seems. He gives them a bored look and snickers when the pale boy with blonde hairs eyes widen in panic for standing there too long and rushes inside.

 _Wonder what he's in for, probably staying too long after school_. He finds himself going to the library he's become familiar with for the past three years for many a Saturday and finds all the tables to be filled except for one. There are six tables in two rows of three and a curly haired beauty is sitting at the front table, next to him is one of the school's jocks. The blonde lad from earlier is sitting at a table on the opposite side of the library and just behind him is a boy who is dressed from head to toe in all black, a beanie on his head. Louis recognizes him as Zayn, they've smoked up a few times before. They never really said much, just the occasional request for a lighter here and there. Louis pushes back his sunglasses and raises one of his curved eyebrows at the brunette he saw upon walking in. Curly hair askew and obscene looking lips bitten red, proper cherub that one. He rolls his eyes at Louis and scoffs, scooting his chair deeper into the table. Louis smirks and takes a seat at the table just behind jock and prissy princess. He leans back, rests his legs on the wooden table in front of him and starts to get comfortable. And of course as he does this, the devil himself decides to make an appearance. Mr. Simon Cowell, the terror of everyone's young lives walks right into the library and grins deviously at the five young men. He holds a stack of paper and pencils in one hand and the crushed dreams of the young in the other. Oh wait, was that a bit too dramatic? _Nah, pretty accurate_ , Louis thinks.

And he speaks. "Well...well. Here we are!" Louis wants to commit mass homicide already, he can't stand his voice. "I want to congratulate you for being on time..." His cold dark eyes flit to Louis's instantly. Louis holds in a scoff. And then there is an interruption.

"Excuse me, sir?" And oh, it's the pretty boy sitting in the table in front of him. Louis oddly didn't think his voice would sound that way. A slow, deep drawl that makes the minutes seem like hours as he tries to get out a simple question. He'll file that away for later. "I think there's been a mistake. I know it's detention, but,...erm...I don't think I belong in here..." It's said with so much revulsion for the general area that Louis almost laughs out loud. What a pristine one. His comment seems to be lost on Cowell the second it's uttered of course, for he only gets a blank stare. "It is now," He checks the watch on his wrist, "Seven-oh-six. You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you're here. To ponder the error of your ways..." Louis gives him the customary bored expression he often reserves for people like Mr. Cowell. He frankly doesn't know why someone like the terror of a man standing before them has a job in the school district. He doesn't even seem to like people; much less fucking children. "...and you may not talk. You will not move from these seats." He points straight at Louis and all but bares his teeth like a dog, "...and you...will not sleep. Alright boys, we're gonna try something a little different today." He begins to go around, setting paper and pencils for each of the boys and continues. "We are going to write an essay--of no less than a thousand words--describing to me who you think you are." What kind of ridiculous bullshit? Louis has never been one to keep his mouth shut so he decides to ask a question. "Is this a test?"

He gets openly ignored until Mr. Cowell finally approaches his table. "And when I say essay... I mean _essay_ , I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Tomlinson?" Louis looks up and says, "Crystal." through gritted teeth. "Good. Maybe you'll learn a little about yourself. Maybe you'll even--decide whether or not you care to return."

Another interruption from the pale boy across the room ensues, "You know, I can answer that right now sir...That'd be "No", no for me. 'Cause..." He begins in a strong Irish accent, halfway mumbling. "Sit down Horan.." Cowell sternly orders. "Thank you sir..." He goes beet red in the face and obliges, psh, what a nerd. Simon continues, obviously irritated at the constant interruption he's received. "My office is right across the hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?" He looks at the lot of them and Louis's mind lights up with an idea and he sits up grinning like mad.

"Yeah, I got a question."

This earns him a look of suspicion and the beginnings of a glare.

"Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"

He raises his lips into a smirk when he sees the flash of anger cross the teacher's face. "I'll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Tomlinson, next Saturday." Who gives a fuck, that was _so_ worth it. "Don't mess with the bull young man, you'll get the horns." And he turns with a disgruntled huff and stalks off. Louis revels in the satisfaction of getting to that man, he might as well make a living out of it. He could earn millions just from it, he's sure. He takes the silence as a confirmation that no one is going to get anything done until he hears a mumbling across the library.

"Who do I think I am? Who are you? Who are you?" He seems to ask himself, but not as quietly as he thought he was. Louis sees him attach a pen he seemed to pull out of his pocket to his bottom lip and put the top under his upper lip. "I am...a walrus." Louis gives him a confused look and the blonde notices this, laughs in a painfully awkward manner and takes the pen out of his mouth. Poor lad is embarrassed, Louis almost feels bad for him.

He looks around bored until he sets his eyes on the athlete in front of him. The back of his head isn't very interesting so Louis decided to kick his chair a bit, testing the waters. This earns him the desired response and he turns around, thick brows furrowed angrily. He has chocolate brown eyes, resembling a puppy and a stern facial expression all around. Like he's always on edge and never gets a break. His letterman jacket is navy blue and white and has 'PAYNE' printed across the back with 'Liam' in loopy cursive in the front, on his right. Louis gives him a faux-innocent grin and shrugs his shoulders. Liam huffs something unintelligible under his breath and turns back around in his seat. Louis lets out a very exaggerated sigh, there is nothing to do, what the actual fuck. He has long since given up his attempt at writing a stupid essay so he decides to crumple up his paper. He tosses it back and forth before his eyes glance up at Curly sitting in front of him and eh, what the hell. Best dispose of the paper then leave it here to waste right? So Louis aims said paper over Curly's head and misses by a long shot (he did it on purpose okay, don't give him that look) and he sees him tense up. Liam and the boy next to him both acknowledged the paper ball was aimed at them but just keep quiet.

And that just wouldn't do. Louis needs attention, he isn't one for being ignored. So naturally, he starts singing a song obnoxiously loud. "Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah...nah, nah, nah..." Curly speaks up, but he doesn't seem to be directly speaking to Louis. "I can't believe this is really happening to me..." Bingo! It's still a reaction and that's all that matters. Time to find something else because Louis doesn't know the actual words to the song he was just singing. He barely even knows the name, he just hums to the song when it comes on the radio and goes along with it. It's a bunch of mumbling to his ears. So he stops singing after a few seconds and-

"Oh, shit! What're we s'posed to do if we hafta take a piss?"

  
A disgusted noise is heard (" _Please..._ ") and it sounds like the priss in front of him but Louis pays no mind. He shrugs and there is no other choice. It's not like they can step out of this room without Cowell setting them on fire with his eyes. "If you gotta go, you gotta go!" He exclaims and unzips his fly. He is no bluff so he pulls out his cock right then and there and sets himself on the task of pissing on the floor. "Oh my God!" The pretty boy screeches. Everyone's eyes are on him and he gives no damns, if they want to watch they can. He doesn't judge kinks anyhow, people like what they like. "Hey, you're not urinating in here man!" And it's Liam this time. He sounds way more angry then he should be. I mean, Louis is just trying to pee here. "Don't talk! Don't talk! It makes it crawl back up!" Louis says as he scoots lower into the chair. "You whip it out and you're dead before the first drop hits the floor!" Damn, this guys a feisty one. Louis gasps, mocking. He zips back up and sits straight once again. He gives a smirk and puts on his best seductress voice. "You're pretty sexy when you get angry...grrr, big boy!" Liam squawks and looks two seconds away from jumping up and flipping a table over. So much pent up anger, so little time. Louis turns to Horan, _that's what Cowell called him right?_ , and calls to him. He's looking down at his paper very interested it seems without writing anything down. "Hey homeboy." The pale boy looks up very confused, blue eyes unsure. He gestures to himself with his pen as if asking me? and Louis nods. "Why don't you go close that door. We'll get the prom queen-- _impregnated_!" Horan actually gapes at that and the said person turns on him with a withering glare and an outburst sounds next to him.

"Hey!"

Louis ignores him.

Again Liam calls. " _Hey_!" His brows furrow further and it looks painful how tight together they are. He has a vein popping out the side of his neck already. "What?" Louis asks bored. "If I lose my temper, you're _totalled_ man!" Louis scoffs and responds, "Totally?" Louis is nothing else but a cheeky shit. He loves pushing people's limits. " _Totally_!" He looks determined to go through with the threat right then and there and Curly joins in, "Why don't you just shut up!" He's talking to Louis of course. "Nobody here is interested!" What a great tag team, why don't you just keep it coming. I'm so hurt. "Exactly," Liam says agreeing with the boy next to him. "Buttface!" He spits out at Louis like it would do any damage. What a mature thing to say. Louis is getting genuinely annoyed now. "Well hey Sporto!" He says with fake enthusiasm. "What'd you do to get in here? Forget to wash your jock?" He challenges. "Uh, excuse me fellas?" A nervous voice says, Horan. "I think we should just write our papers..." Poor guy is ignored of course as the boys continue to argue. "Look," Liam says matter-of-factly, "just because you live here doesn't give you the right to be a pain in the ass... so knock it off!" His face is starting to get pink, frustration clear in his features. Louis mockingly registers pain on his face. "It's a free country." he responds. He sees Liam about to get up when the boy next to him sets a calming hand on his shoulder, "He's just doing it to get a rise out of you! Just ignore him..." And like magic you can see some of the tense joints in Liam's body relax, only a little. That's not fair now is it?

"Sweets, you couldn't ignore me if you tried!" Just like that Liam tenses back up and Curly turns to Louis and rolls his eyes. Ultimately annoyed the both of them, mission accomplished. Louis's eyes light up with a taunting look to the stormy blue and he sets his elbows on the table. He leans his chin into the palm of his hands and looks dreamily at the both of them. "So...so are you guys like boyfriends?" No one says anything, they just stare at him. "You know, steady dates? Meeting the 'rents at the door and holding hands as you walk down the driveway." He sighs out. "Lo--vers?" He turns to Liam, "Come on, Sporto, level with me. This one's a nice lad, nice little body, too. Do you slip him the hot beef _injection_?" The second it comes out of his mouth they both pounce like wild cats. They're fuming and Louis is loving every second.

"Go to hell!" Curly screams at him, his face flushed and curls bouncing.

"Enough!" Liam roars.

There is distant yelling, Cowell seems to have heard their outbursts. "Hey! What's going on in there?" No one says anything. There is a beat of silence where they wait to see if Mr. Cowell will come in and check on them and it doesn't happen. Louis breathes a little easier if he's honest, and so does everyone else. The teenagers in the room glance at each other for a moment and you can see the same look in each of their eyes: the look of relief. They aren’t all that different, they are actually very similar in ways they don’t realize yet. Another reason they won’t notice this is because of their stubborn sense of _‘I’m unique and no one else is like me, I couldn’t possibly have anything in common with them.’_ And that is a hard one to break, especially for Louis because even he knows how damn stubborn he can be. He remembers one time a kid bet him he couldn't climb a tree when he was younger, that he would fall and not make it to the top. And Louis is no one to pass up a challenge, so naturally he climbed up the tree and made it to the goddamn top. Granted he fell off and broke his arm, but that's not the point. Louis didn't wuss out of it, because he isn't afraid of anything and can do everything. And anyway, he made it to the top and stood there for a good ten seconds before he fell, so technically he won the bet. Psh, who's bringing this up anyway, it's in the past. The fact of the matter is Louis is fucking stubborn and if he says he has nothing in common with anyone in here, than he doesn't have anything in common with them.


End file.
